Friday, February 12, 2010


I talked to my birth mother again. The last time I talked to her the phone card cut off in the middle of our conversation and I didn't bother to call her back for a couple of weeks. Finding out that out of her (soon to be) five children I was the only one she gave up, and that I wasn't even her first child - so it wasn't like she was new at being a mom - threw me.

That's the first time I really have admitted that to myself in its entirety and severity. That shit threw me off bad. I've played hermit for the past few weeks, and its most definitely a result of that admission...

It just hurts, and seems kind of like a cruel thing to do a child. I still don't know why she did it really, but I will give her some credit. She does seem like she's willing to make an honest effort to make things better (if that's even possible) and she is being honest about things I didn't expect her to be honest about.

And I think she realizes that its not about her. Which is fantastic, because my other mother is behaving herself as well and realizing it too. I have a sneaking suspicion that my other mother not only knows better, but is relieved that the blame is no longer being placed solely on her.

Which I still have mixed feelings about, because so often she is in the habit of misinterpreting situations and absolving herself of the guilt I'm sure she at least subconsciously should feel, but I'm sure I will remind her soon enough that she is not off the hook, because it would seem I may have found my voice.

The other day at work I actually had a conversation with a coworker about what it was like growing up as an adoptee with my mother. It was casual enough, and I didn't feel like shit after, in fact I felt better. And thats fan-freakin-tastic, because most of the time those sorts of conversations leave me feeling like I should've kept my damn mouth shut, because usually those who aren't adoptees don't get it at all. But this wasn't the case at all.

Its funny though, I'm really starting to realize how fucked up/good at coping with bullshit(?) I am. I would have jumped in front of a mac truck years ago if it wasn't for my ability to double think my life. On the one hand this is my life, and it is fucked up, but on the other I'm so used to hurting I'm just numb to any emotion I ought to be feeling but can't because (even though I know better) there's a little voice in my head that keeps telling me "this can't be real, this can't be happening, things have to get better, it won't always be like this".

I do believe the last part about shit getting better. It has to.

So on a positive note, I say my natural mother is trying because she revealed something to me I didn't expect to hear. It was about my father. Now I seriously wasn't expecting to know shit about my dad ever. I'm almost positive none of her children have the same fathers (or at least I don't think my brother, me and the new baby have the same dads) so what she told me shocked the shit out of me.

My father is here. He's in Canada, and he's been looking for least that's what I've been told. My mother also told me that he left when she was pregnant, but she says its her fault because she was on him for being lazy and not getting a job. When he came back, I was gone. He had nothing to do with giving me up, he never wanted it, and that's why as she says "he searched all of Canada for you."

Shit. I just started crying.

I really don't want to get excited bout this for fear of being let down...but I can't help but let my mind get carried away. I've never had a dad, and my adoptive mother had suggested that my father had wanted nothing to do with me (and basically made the claim that Afro-Caribbean men made bad fathers in the first place, which brought the rage out in me, and my insistance that my father did love me - and turns out I was right).

This is all so new and confusing.


Felicia|DaLipstickBandit said...

Wow, thanks for sharing your story with the world. My BFF is adopted. All she knows is that she was a crack baby left at the hospital after birth. She doesn't even know what race her parents are. She's been struggling to find her birth parents ever since we were 18. We're 25 now. luck. I say even though your story helps that you know where you come from. My mom died when I was 3. No one would talk about her. Like she never existed. So, I through your feelings because at least you know. Good luck with your journey! :)

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